Page 5 of Return

Vivian lifted her glass of Merlot, offering a silent toast before taking a drink. “I concur. A nice glass of wine after a stressful day is like manna from Heaven.”

“To mother’s milk,” he said, tapping his pint of beer against her wineglass.

She laughed. It was a very genuine sound, one he didn’t hear from her very often. Not that Vivian was somber or too serious or anything like that. When he considered the shit she’d gone through in her lifetime, it was no wonder the laughs came few and far between.

The first time he met Vivian, she’d been spending her first holiday alone with Victor in Baltimore, following the deaths of their parents, who’d been killed by a drunk driver. While she’d impressed him with her life plan that night in the pub, there had been no missing the sadness that lingered behind her dark eyes.

He’d seen shades of that same sadness over the past year as well, though he suspected those shadows were caused by the untimely passing of her husband. When Dean thought of all the loss Vivian had suffered for someone so young, he found himself humbled by her strength.

While they waited for dinner, conversation settled into an easy rhythm.

“You know,” Dean said, leaning back against the booth, “back when you were younger, I remember thinking Victor was going to tackle anyone who even looked in your direction.”

Vivian laughed. “Oh, I think we both know he totally would have.”

“He practically inserted himself between you and every guy at that table that night at the pub over the holidays,” he teased.

Vivian tilted his head. “He wasn’t subtle, but let’s face it, he rarely is. If you recall, he parked you on the other side of me.”

Dean smiled at the memory. “Probably because he knew I wouldn’t make a move on you. You hadn’t even been out of high school a full year. Hell, I probably would have held down any guy who tried to put the moves on you for Vic.”

“I have to admit, I was stupidly excited the first time he let me go out with him and the team. Until he plopped me down between the two of you.”

Dean chuckled at her disgruntled tone. “That bad?”

Vivian pierced him with a look. “You asked me how school was going and if I was studying hard, like you were some long-lost great-uncle. Then you asked what I was majoring in. We talked for all of five minutes before some curvy blonde claimed the seat on your other side. After that, I spent the rest of the night looking at the back of your head as Victor stood freaking sentry, as if he were guarding the Crown Jewels.”

Dean winced. “Ouch. Sorry about that.”

Vivian waved off his apology. “Oh, don’t apologize. It was interesting watching you work.”

Suddenly, Dean realized the joke was on him. “Work?”

“You were laying on the charm pretty thick for that puck bunny, though God only knows why. Her giggle was high-pitched to the point of almost manic.”

Dean had absolutely zero memory of that woman. Not her name, her face, or her laugh. Yet even without that information, he’d bet the better part of his bank account that he’d taken the woman home and scored big for a second time that night.

Something in his face must have given him away.

“You don’t remember the woman at all, do you?”

Dean offered a sheepish grin instead of a reply.

“Guess that’s one of the perks of the job, though, right? Getting laid so regularly that all the faces blend together.”

Dean had just taken a swig of his beer. Hearing Vivian talk about getting laid caught him off guard enough that he choked on it.

She laughed, even as she rose and started hitting him on the back. “Are you okay?” she asked, with a low giggle that wasn’t the slightest bit high-pitched or manic. Vivian’s laughter, like her voice, was warm, rich, and soothing. Suddenly, he found himself wanting to hear her sing, suspecting she had a beautiful alto.

Vivian resumed her seat, sipping more of her wine while trying to hide her smile behind the glass.

Dean decided turnabout was fair play. “Getting laid is definitely one of the perks of being a hockey god.”

Vivian covered her mouth after the first initial—loud—burst of laughter. “A hockey god? Wow. You don’t have a problem with ego at all, do you?”

Dean wiggled his eyebrows, enjoying this conversation more than any he’d had in a long time. That was when it occurred to him. He didn’t remember a single thing about the woman he’d taken home that night all those years earlier—but he recalled every word he and Vivian had spoken to each other. Despite what she clearly believed, he’d been very interested in hearing about her first semester of college and her major.

Unbeknownst to her, however, Victor had shot him one hell of a dirty look when the conversation carried on longer than her brother clearly thought appropriate. So Dean had taken the warning and turned his attention elsewhere.